The Long Road Home
by Typedoutatnight
Summary: Mercenaries that wanted to atone. Security Consultants tired of playing by the rules. Former Military Operatives. C-sec agents. The usual. Led by Garrus Vakarian, they were a team. They were Archangel. This is their story. Omega Beware.
1. Prologue Part 1

A shot rang out, clipping the ground and sending up a puff of dust and debris.

 _Just like old times._

Garrus Vakarian threw himself behind a parked skycar and unclipped his sidearm, cursing the fact that criminals never came quietly and that he had banged his fringe on the side of the vehicle.

 _It's like no one remembers that the geth attacked. Granted, I've tried to block out a couple recent memories myself; the cryotubes full of dead protheans on Ilos. Saren turning into…whatever the hell that was, accidentally finding Joker's ahem, personal holo-vid collection to name a few. But come on, we're still pulling bodies out of the wreckage. Don't criminals ever take a vacation? Is nearly being destroyed by a nigh-immortal sentient spaceship and it's army of synthetics not reason enough to, I don't know, go to a beach somewhere?_

The thought of beaches reminded him of Vimire and he concluded that beaches weren't all they were cracked up to be.

 _Not like I can swim, anyway._

Barely more than a few weeks had passed since the battle for the citadel and crime rates in the lower wards seemed to have skyrocketed. And it wasn't all the same players either. Fist was dead. So was Dela T'panga. The Bachjret Bombers gang was no more, though he'd heard that most of them had gone down fighting geth side by side with C-sec.

 _But somehow, I'd find that information a lot more comforting if the idiots of the week weren't shooting at me_.

He fired a few warning shots and ducked back into cover, wishing he'd brought his rifle along. Tayseri Ward had taken the most damage from the fighting and everybody knew it. Wreckage from citadel ships, systems alliance vessels, and the geth armada had rained down like the fist of an angry god, not to mention huge chunks of Sovereign itself.

 _The mechanical tentacle of a god then?_ He mused as he waited for his pistol to cool down.

Most of the ward was in shambles; even with construction crews working around the clock to clear debris, it was estimated that it would several _years_ to repair all the damage. On top of that a few _thousand_ C-sec officers had perished in the fighting, with another hundred or two still missing in action.

 _And yet Harkin survived the attack and is stinking up the dark star lounge these days. Is there no justice in this galaxy?_

Considering that the citadel still had a population of over thirteen million, C-sec was stretched pretty thin; which was why he found himself working with a special response unit. The SR had been the first on the scene when the geth attacked, and had taken the heaviest losses.

"Nothing like the smell of a freshly ejected thermal clip in the morning, eh Vakarian?"

Garrus turned to the human that was talking and offered a wry smile.

"You know me, Lamont. I prefer the classics."

Officer Lamont chortled , and slotted a new clip into his gun as he took cover next to Garrus. "You're going to become a relic if you don't keep up. This is becoming the new standard. Waiting for your weapon to cool down is so last month. "

"As I recall, having to load your gun with bullets is so last century." Garrus returned drily.

"A thermal clip is not a bul—" Lamont began before shaking his head. "Never mind, I'm not getting sucked into this debate again." Garrus shrugged.

 _But it's such a fun debate. Usability versus technological steps backward. Everyone's got an opinion about it._

"Suit yourself Lamont." He peeked around the skycar and saw three of the gangbangers they were shooting at make a break for it. The display on the targeting visor he wore over his right eye zoomed in with a simple eye flick for a command. It was a kuwashii model, specifically fitted for a turian's head, one that he'd added a few modifications to over the years. Chief among them was the ability to detect and measure biotic fields from up to thirty meters away and a biofeedback reader that could monitor heart rate fluctuations and changes in breath patterns. Of course, that feature required him to be a lot closer than he was, so he settled for the x50 magnification and focused on what the humans were carrying.

"So many groups trying to scavenge tech from the battle for the black market, I can't keep track of them all. What're these idiots calling themselves again?" Garrus wondered aloud.

"The tenth street reds will rise again!" one of the humans shouted, moments before Garrus tagged him in the shoulder and sent him spinning to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Ah." Garrus sighed.

"Think they're close to surrendering?" Lamont wondered hopefully.

"I don't know, let's ask them. Hey, reds? Any chance you want to give up now? I've got more important things to do."

The answer was a level of profanity that was surprising, even with everything Garrus had seen before.

"Guess that's a no." he sighed. "And I was looking forward to watching the clawball game this afternoon too."

Lamont barked out a laugh. "I don't know why. You know the Raescir Rockets are going to lose right?"

Garrus didn't respond, watching as some of the other officers in the area moved in a pincer, cutting off the gang members' last route of escape from behind and ordering them to put their hands up. There was more swearing, but what was left of the Red's complied. The danger having passed, Garrus stood slowly and holstered his pistol.

 _All in a day's work, I suppose._

"Now why do I get the feeling that we were being used as a distraction?" Lamont muttered.

"We were, because we're the most attractive officers on the force." Garrus quipped, slapping Lamont on the shoulder. The human snickered.

"Much obliged for the help detective. "

Garrus chuckled dryly and nodded to the sergeant. With this nonsense over, maybe he'd actually get the time to work on his current case, that of a drug dealer named Kishpaugh.

 _After I submit a report about the Tenth Street Reds in triplicate, of course._

* * *

Some hours later, after he'd clocked out, Garrus found his way to the Dark Star lounge in Zakera Ward and settled onto a stool by the bar. The clawball game was long since over, but they were still playing highlights. Garrus sipped at a quarian brandy and watched as Neno Raxirian scored a second goal in overtime. A grin stole over his face. Lamont owed him forty credits. The commentators were just starting to talk about the play of the game when the citadel news network symbol filled the screen, much to the dismay of some of the other patrons in the lounge.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this special news bulletin." The asari news anchor was saying. It's been one month since rogue spectre saren areterius led the synthetic race known as the geth in a terrible attack on the Citadel. Garrus grimaced and shook his head. No mention of Sovereign being a reaper, just a geth dreadnought. But dreadnoughts bloody well didn't talk to people and make personal threats. If the council had only seen what they'd seen on Virmire...

Not to mention that there was no way in hell that Saren had turned into that cybernetic husk all by himself after he'd shot himself in the head.

 _I'm sure the council has dismissed those claims._ Garrus thought in disgust.

"-shot down in the Amada system." Garrus's drink paused halfway to his mouth. _What did she just…?_ "Information is scarce at the moment, but we have reason to believe that most of the crew died with the ship. The question on everyone's lips; Did Commander Shepard, savior of the citadel go down with the Normandy?

Garrus stared slack-jawed at the screen in disbelief.

Admiral Hackett was at a press conference, denying that they had had any confirmation about anything, other than a transmission from the Normandy's pilot that the ship was taking heavy fire. Murmurs arose in the bar. Garrus drained the rest of his rum in one swig and slammed the glass down on the counter before unsteadily getting to his feet and leaving the lounge. _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Why had he left? Maybe he could have…no. It was no use thinking about that. He tried to wrap his head around what he's just heard, but he couldn't. That ship had been his home for months. The crew…

Garrus wanted to put his head in his hands. After Saren's death and the ceremony the council had thrown, he'd gone back to C-Sec. He'd known that he couldn't be deputized by a Spectre indefinitely, and he'd been the only one with pressing responsibilities to get back to. Wrex had left the ship a few days before him, declaring that he had unfinished business on Tuchanka to deal with. But the rest? Tali? Liara? Williams? He found himself worrying for the alliance crew as well. Joker, Chakwas, Pressly and the rest. Sure, some of them had eyeballed him at first, but they'd become a team. All of them. Right down to that requisitions officer that had bunked behind him.

And Shepard? Garrus brooded as he walked back to his office, trying to ignore the voice in the recesses of his mind that was starting to panic, feeling a deep sense of loss for his mentor. His friend. If Shepard had ordered him to storm the gates of hell, he'd have done it with no question. One look at those emerald eyes was all it took. That was just the kind of effect she had had on people.

 _Past tense._ His mind whispered in betrayal.

Heroes weren't supposed to die like that. Shepard was smarter than that. The geth wouldn't have been able to take her down, not like that.

Not the Normandy.

Never Shepard.

Right?

* * *

 **Hello, and thank you for giving this a shot. If you've read my stuff before, you know that in Mass Effect, I've stuck to one-shots. This is my attempt at writing an ongoing fic, something with structure. I've planned out this whole thing and written several chapters in advance. I'm thinking weekly updates. As you can no doubt tell, this is a Garrus-centric fic, one that intends to explore the two year gap between Mass Effect 1 and 2. It's a story I've wanted to tell for a long time, as my canon for it has been banging around in my head since the first time I played Mass effect 2. I'll be fleshing out bits from the homeworlds comic for a few chapters before heading off into uncharted waters. Reviews, comments, criticisms, questions etc, are welcome. Feedback is the best way to improve one's story-telling.**


	2. Prologue Part 2

It took some time and effort, but after a while, Garrus managed to force himself to focus on the information he had in front of him for the case. He wasn't very surprised to see a familiar face staring up from the datapad.

"Kishpaugh." He said, rolling the familiar name around on his tongue. A year and a half ago, he'd almost put the human away for good; at least before his own father had cut the dealer loose, citing Garrus's methods as reason enough. Garrus snorted at the memory. _Maybe_ he'd tampered with some of the evidence. Maybe he'd been a little harsh in convincing that junkie to testify, but it hadn't made Kishpaugh any less guilty. Number one dealer of red sand, hallex and videlicit in two out of the five wards and his own father had wasted months of work because he wasn't doing it "by the book." For all that good that would have done. The bastard hadn't changed one bit. Garrus sighed and pushed the datapads away, trying and failing to keep images of the Normandy exploding outof his mind. It was no use speculating who had lived and who died, last he heard from the news the alliance was trying to recover several escape pods.

There was still hope. He'd track down the lead in the morning, after he'd gotten some sleep.

 _If_ he could sleep.

* * *

As it turned out, it took longer than a day for his lead to bear fruit. Closer to a week actually, during which the scant information about the fate of the Normandy was barely added to. They'd recovered a handful of pods and had reported the well being of and Tali'zorah vas Neema but they were refusing to release the names of any alliance personnel. He'd tried to contact a few crew members that he had the extranet accounts for but he hadn't heard back from anyone. Not even from Anderson. And Garrus knew stonewalling when he saw it. Her safety would have been big news. If Shepard had been alive, there would be no reason for the alliance to keep so tight-lipped about her condition.

She had to be gone.

She was gone and it barely registered as a blip on the citadel news network, almost like they were eager to forget what she had done, forget about Saren and the geth and Sovereign and move on to more pleasant things. The thought made his plates itch and his head throb as he stalked through C-Sec headquarters. At least he'd managed to arrest Kishpaugh on possession. Granted, he'd planted the evidence, but it wasn't like dealers didn't carry their product around. Garrus was glad to get a chance to interrogate him, even if he had had to fill out the paperwork first. He never had to deal with this tripe when he'd been working under Shepard. When it came to dealing with the bad guys all he'd had to do was point and shoot, not make nice. She'd handled that when the situation called for it.

Handled the reports to the council too; at least when she felt like it. Garrus smiled softly, remembering the time she'd hung up on the council mid-sentence. They'd deserved it. Garrus made his way to holding, nodding at Ridgefield and Monteauge as they passed, took a moment to congratulate Chellick on closing out a case and then found Jatasa waiting for him outside of interrogation. She was a real looker. The blue clan markings that were tattooed across her face were the same as his because she'd grown up in Cipritine, a stone's throw from his childhood home. But her eyes were a captivating green, her plates a soft cream color, and her waist, well…

If he'd been born with a waist as supportive as that, he'd have made a good dancer.

"Garrus." She said smoothly as he approached.

"Jatasa." He returned with a nod.

"He's all yours." She said with an odd look. Garrus took note of that, but walked into the room anyway. The human sat with his arms folded on the table, looking extremely bored.

"So nice to see you again, Kishpaugh." Garrus said airily.

"Fuck off, cuttlebone. I know my rights. I ain't telling you shit." Kishpaugh spat and fixed his eyes on the ceiling.

A snarky reply danced on the edge of Garrus's tongue, but the itch in his plates was getting worse. This same scene had played out a dozen times before with a dozen different criminals. Making nice with Kishpaugh and dancing around the issue was a far cry from how Shepard and the squad had dealt with that asari slaver. Or Helena Blake and her partners.

There was an easier way to do this and he knew it. It just kind of broke several C-sec regulations.

Strangely enough, Garrus found that he was okay with that. A kind of peaceful clarity settled over him, at odds with the sudden rush of adrenaline he felt pumping in his veins. Years of this nonsense; and he just didn't want to take it anymore. As always, it was Shepard showing him the way. The itch was getting maddening. Garrus turned and looked at the window he knew Jatasa was watching from and clicked his mandibles resolutely, tapping a few controls on his omni-tool. A simple hacking sub-routine and the door locked from the inside. By the time Jatasa figured out what he was doing, hopefully he'd have what he needed.

"You know, I'm having a very bad week." He drawled, pacing around the table like a nathak stalking prey.

"Aw you're not gonna start crying are you?" the human sneered.

Garrus ignored him and continued.

"My coffee was cold, one of my best friends is smeared across some spirits-forsaken nebulae in the Terminus systems, the Vaenia sequel is in developmental hell and to top it all off the Washington Hackers lost last night's biotiball game by five points." He stopped behind the human and clamped his hands down hard on Kishpaugh's shoulders.

"You do _not_ want to test me."

Without warning he yanked backwards, pulling the dealer out of the chair and slamming him against the wall. Garrus's right arm slid up until he was pinning Kishpaugh's throat to the wall with his elbow. The human wriggled in his grasp and sputtered for air.

"Vakarian?! What are you doing, put him down!" Jatasa's voice came out of the room's speakers with a screech, but he could detect the outrage in her subharmonics. Garrus ignored her and continued.

"I'm going to ask you again." He growled in a low, menacing tone. Give me a name. Who. Is. Your. Supplier?" Each of the last four words was punctuated by a blow to the man's ribs with his free hands.

"Vakarian?! " The sound of fists thumping on the door. "What did you do to the lock? Vakarian!? Garrus! Let me in there! I'll break down this door if I have to!"

"Y-you can't do th-this." Kishpaugh gasped in his ear. "You're c-sec."

"Let me let you in on a little secret, Kishpaugh." Garrus whispered in the human's ear. "I've finding it really hard to give a damn. Told you, I've been having a bad week. I don't care about you, or your well-being. If you do, you'll tell me what I want to know." He applied more pressure with his elbow, making Kishpaugh's eyes bulge. The human gasped and struggled against his elbow, but Garrus refused to relent.

"Th-th-thralog Miri'kit." the human finally wheezed, his eyes wide with fear and pain. "H-he's a b-batarian." Garrus cocked his head to the side in surprise as it was rare to find batarians on the citadel.

"Can you give me a description?" Garrus asked, not letting the menace drop out of voice, though he eased up with his elbow.

"I- I dunno, we've never met in person." Kishpaugh babbled. "Look, I-I'm just the middle man alright? He's my supplier, I-"

A clicking sound came from the door and Garrus spared it a glance. Jatasa was almost through.

"Where is he?!" Garrus yelled urgently. "Which ward?!"

"He's not o-on the Citadel! O-omega. Omega, all my shipments come from Omega." Garrus threw Kishpaugh back into the chair. His Kuwashii visor didn't register any increase in pupil size or any other indicators that Kishpaugh was lying. Scared out of his wits, yeah, but telling the truth. But Omega? That space station was on the other side of the spirits be damned galaxy, deep in the heart of the Terminus systems.

"There now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Gqarrus drawled. The door slid open and Jatasa bounded through, one hand on her pistol. Garrus stared at her blandly.

"Outside. Now." She seethed, forcing him to walk out and following after him. "What the hell was that?" she barked as soon as the door had shut behind her.

"It's called getting results. You should try it some time." Garrus said flatly.

"Come off it Garrus. How long have we known each other? How long?" she pressed, moving around to stand in front of him.

"Years." He sighed. "Years, we went to academy together."

"That's right, Garrus." She affirmed with a nod. "Which means I know how you think. You've been acting strange the last couple of days."

"Have I?"

"Two units of Red Sand went missing from an evidence locker two nights ago. Someone busted the lock."

"Hm." Garrus replied without looking at her.

"Didn't your report say that you found two units of red sand in Kishpaugh's skycar?"

"Hm."

Jatasa huffed in annoyance. "You're not the only one capable of doing detective work Vakarian."

"But I thought you were part of a special response unit?" he said sarcastically, attempting to move to her right. She stepped in front of him.

"You know as well as I do that we're all pulling double shifts and working outside our divisions until recruitment picks back up. "

Garrus groaned inwardly. Jatasa was such a…well, turian. _Ah well. I could have come up with a better insult anyway._

"You're leaving a trail that a krogan could follow. " she continued. She was agitated. There was something in her voice; maybe a touch of concern? Worry? He grimaced. He didn't need her charity. Not now. "Talk to me Garrus, why'd you assault your suspect?"

"Because," he said in annoyance, his voice starting to rise. "No matter what we do, it's never enough! Plug one hole, two more start leaking. Put a criminal away and he's back on the streets in a matter of months, and in that time three more rise in his absence. Trying to keep crime down while large portions of the wards and presidium are being rebuilt doesn't help either! Sometimes you need to put the screws to them. "

"So if the rules become inconvenient, you're just going to flat out disregard them?" Jatasa said, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe. Yes." He said with an air of finality.

"What about due process? Sentient rights? The Citadel accordance?" Jatasa shot back, managing to sound shocked and offended at the same time.

Garrus threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Do they care about their victims? Did that elcor serial killer care about the people he killed? Did Saleon?"He spat, voice continuing to rise as the resentment he'd been keeping in boiled over. "Does Kishpaugh care how many kids he gets hooked on sand? Why should we care if they make it to a nice cushy cell intact? Why should we care if they live or die?" he finished, breathing heavily. Jatasa was quiet for a moment.

"You've changed, Garrus." She said softly, her voice losing some of its hard edge.

"The galaxy changed." He said, in a slightly subdued tone.

Jatasa shook her head. "You've been different ever since you got back. You were always one to bend the rules but now you're just breaking them. I'm going to have to bring this to Executor Pallin's attention." She said heavily. "Maybe you need some time off. We've all been working around the clock, and it's clear you need to de-stress before you crack."

"It might be a little late for that."Garrus chuckled bitterly.

"I'm serious," she said, touching his arm in concern. "Look, I get that you spent the better part of the year traipsing around the galaxy with that human spectre-

"Shepard." He said, voice tinged with harshness. "Her name was Jane Shepard, not that anyone gives a damn."

To his indignation, Jatasa ignored his little outburst and continued. "That fight's over. Case closed. Saren was stopped. I don't know what kind of vigilante mischief you got up to with that loose cannon of a spectre, but you're back with C-sec now, there are reg-"

"Do what you have to do Jatasa. I'm not going to stop you." Garrus interrupted in irritation as he pushed past her, fed up with having the book thrown at him. A heavy silence hung in the air before she called after him, the hard edge creeping back; he knew that meant she was hurt.

"That's Officer Melenis to you, if you're going to act like this."

A dismissive wave was his only response. He knew she didn't deserve his ire. She was one of the better cops that C-sec had. But in that moment, he just couldn't bring himself to care.


	3. Prologue Part 3

"Police brutality? Intimidating a suspect? Tampering with evidence?" The datapad clattered onto the desk.

"You forgot damaging C-sec property." Garrus responded with a dry chuckle.

Executor Pallin made a noise in his subharmonics that was halfway between a growl and a groan.

"You've always bent the rules Vakarian, but you're going too far now."

"Somehow, I don't think I've been going far enough." Garrus said crisply, ignoring the look that the executor was giving him. He'd expected Jatasa to notify their boss quickly, but this had been fast, even for her. _Is that what its like, being a good turian? Following the book so closely you get near nearsighted?_

"This is your last warning Officer. Your activities are bordering on vigilantism. Do things by the book or don't do them at all."

"The book needs to be rewritten." Garrus said derisively, feeling his hackles rise. What the executor had just said was something his father always quoted from a manual. H _ave they been talking?_

Pallin made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat and leaned forward, folding his arms on the desktop. "I've been lenient because of your personal contribution in taking down Saren Arterius, but don't think I won't lock you up if you cross the line again. Too many infractions this month, far too many."

The air in the room suddenly felt much heavier, bearing down on him like a living thing while he stared at the executor coolly. Garrus's blue eyes were hard, glazed with a cold frustration. There were a dozen arguments stewing in his throat. But then he realized that he'd said them all before. There wasn't anything else he could say. And then he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he did, it was like a weight lifted off of his chest. Garrus let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and pushed a button on his omni-tool.

"Don't worry; I'm not your problem anymore."

A second later his C-sec identification chip popped out. He threw it. The badge skipped across Pallin's desk as Garrus turned to leave.

"And where are you going to go?" the executor intoned roughly.

"Somewhere I can actually make a difference." Garrus replied curtly as the door shut behind him.

He'd just committed career suicide. But he was okay with it because he was free. Completely. No more red tape, no more reports to be filed. It was time to take justice, _real_ justice into his own hands. And he knew exactly where he needed to start.

The name was a flame dancing on the tip of his tongue, a needle in the back of his mind.

 _Omega._

* * *

"You quit the force?! What the fuck Vakarian?"

A sigh that was so low it was almost a grumble worked its way out of Garrus's throat. "Do we have to do this now, Jatasa?" _Spirits, she moves fast._

She'd come to his apartment within hours of his resignation, interrupting him in the middle of packing. Granted, it wasn't going to take him long to finish as he lived military, but still. He could feel her eyes wandering over his apartment, looking at the single cot, extranet terminal and his gun collection. He'd never needed much, preferring to save his money when he could and helping to pay for his mother's medical bills. A pained look pulled at his face for a moment, but he banished it. This wouldn't be the first time he dropped off the radar. His family would just have to deal with it. Or his father and sister would. With her Corpalis Syndrome his mother barely recognized his face anymore. His gaze was drawn back to Jatasa and he realized she'd been speaking the whole time.

"Well?" she said curtly, hands on her hips.

"It's just something I need to do. I need to make a difference." he responded after a tense moment.

"That's why we joined C-Sec." she shot back. Garrus shook his head slowly.

"C-Sec doesn't cut it anymore."

Jatasa threw her hands up and took a couple steps towards him, jabbing his chest with a talon. "Will you listen to yourself?! Spirits what is wrong with you? You work with a Spectre for a couple months and..."

"You had to be there. He cut in wryly, trying to ignore the annoyance growing in his stomach.

"You're taking the easy road Vakarian." she said softer, perhaps picking up on his discomfort.

He supposed that in another life, he'd be a captain in the turian military by now, married to a fine woman like Jatasa, and settling down on Palaven. That his father would be proud of him.

"Nothing's ever easy." he replied with a shrug.

* * *

Of course, it hadn't been as easy as simply hopping on the next shuttle there. He'd cleaned out his accounts, sold what little he had, ended the lease on his apartment early, stocked up on medi-gel, thermal clips, rations and had let proprietor of Rodam Expeditions convince him into buying a new sniper rifle. However, he had to admit that the Mantis was a finely crafted gun, even if did use thermal clips. It had all seemed like a grand adventure at first, almost like he was going on a vacation. When he had finally gotten to Omega, he'd barely been there for a day and had stopped a mugging on a whim, leaving the would-be thief unconscious in the gutter.

And by the Spirits, it had felt good.

He'd even attempted to gain an audience with Aria T'loak, the self-proclaimed pirate queen of Omega and the closest thing the station of eight million people had to a higher authority; he'd been turned down by her bodyguards on account of his requests for information by virtue of not being interesting enough. One of the bartenders had been easy enough to bribe though, and he had still found out the things he needed to know. Thralog was small-time as far as the players on Omega were concerned, but he still had more men working for him than Garrus could handle all at once. It was astounding, really, that someone like Thralog could traffic drugs all the way to the citadel, supplying all the pushers in an entire ward by himself and his organization was barely a blip on the radar in Omega's underworld.

It was a different place.

Garrus reveled in it. _Omega._ The heart of darkness. The end point. The null. The gangrenous wound whose existence the civilized parts of the galaxy tried to ignore. A sprawling metropolis with no law, no capital punishment. No red tape. On the Citadel, the scum hid in the shadows, scurrying away like the vermin they were when the light was shined on them. On Omega, it was nigh impossible to walk a block without stepping on something. Here, there were innocent people just trying to get by and the scum that preyed on them. But here, there were no rules to stop him from helping the former and dealing with the latter permanently. There was only one rule that everyone agreed with, and that was not to fuck with Aria, but Garrus had no intention of breaking it. Not yet at any rate. Not until he'd cut Kishpaugh's supply off at the source. The only problem was that he'd been on Omega for three weeks, living out of a cheap motel, and he had yet to cut the problem off at the source. Thralog was hard to get to.

Granted, he'd killed several members of the organization in surprise attacks; sniping from rooftops when they were loading crates into the back of a shuttle had netted him four, and taking out street dealers across the district had brought the total up to nine; he was even pretty sure he's narrowed down where their main hub of operations was, but that hadn't brought him any closer to the leader. He had them on alert which was good, though it meant that they were being more cautious. It had taken hours of recon and one laughably easy interrogation, but he knew where the next big shipment was being loaded. More intriguing, there had been messages, not just about moving product, but about dealing with the "other" problem. Garrus assumed they were talking about him, but as far he knew, they'd never even caught a glimpse of him. The ones he'd taken out had never seen him coming and thus far, he'd never had to leave wherever he perched. He doubted it'd be different this time either.

Garrus sighed and surveyed the room around him. He was in Afterlife's lower level, chewing on something that was _supposed_ to be a burgat steak, but tasted more like leather that had been left out in the sun too long. Thralog's people were going to be meeting in a warehouse near the outskirts of the Kima district the following day, so he had a little bit of free time, though considering the quality of the steak, he might as well have posted up on the rooftop across from the warehouse a day early and eaten some military rations. He pushed the plate away with a grimace, wishing he had some gawi sauce to drown in it in. Then many it'd be more edible. A moment later, his ruminations about shitty bar food were interrupted by a by a sudden altercation a table by the rear entrance.

A krogan had stood up and slammed meaty hands down on the table in front of him, the loud boom garnering attention. "Hey, hey now big fella, I won that hand fair and square." A turian at the same table said, flailing his arms about. "What're a few credits between friends anyhow?" Garrus noted that the other turian bore violet clan markings from Aephus on his cheeks and mandibles, a colony known for its shipyards, but that was all he had time to register before his view became nothing but the krogan's armored back.

" _We_ are not friends." The krogan rumbled, grabbing the turian by the shoulders and slamming him up against the wall. "And you are a cheat." The turian babbled something incomprehensibly, before pulling something out of his pocket and jamming it against the krogan's neck. A sharp tang filled the air, one that Garrus could almost taste. The krogan reared back with a howl, dropping the turian, who was holding a small device that sparked with electricity.

Even for a turian, it was a bad idea to pick a fight with a krogan. Alone. He admired the other turian's bravery though, and noted that the krogan was wearing blood pack colors. That automatically put him on Garrus's shitlist. Whether the turian was cheating or not, the krogan was afflicted with one of Omega's largest three criminal syndicates. With a sigh that belied the spark of glee flickering in his heart, Garrus leapt into action, steak forgotten, and got behind the krogan, firmly kicking the mercenary in the quad.

The krogan grunted in pain and dropped to his knees, allowing the other turian to crack him across the head with a chair, dazing him enough that he didn't try to rise again. "Thank the spirits he's been drinking ryncol for the past two hours, or that would have been a lot harder." He muttered, before extending a hand in Garrus's direction. "Thanks for the assist."

"Not a problem." Garrus replied coolly.

"Sidonis. Lantar Sidonis. You?" Garrus grasped the other turian's talons with his and gave him a nod of affirmation. "Garrus Vakarian."

"Well Garrus, I think I owe you a drink for saving my a-."

"What the hell is this?" an unfamiliar voice growled. Garrus turned to see another blood pack krogan tromping towards them, flanked by a trio of vorcha. None of them looked very pleased, though vorcha –always- looked angry, the krogan was clearly annoyed. _Big too._ Garrus thought idly. Maybe eight feet tall, the hump on his back adding to his girth. Dark brown crest on his forehead above reptilian eyes wide with anger.

"Nothing, nothing at all. I just had a little disagreement with your friend there…" Sidonis began, waving his hands pleadingly.

"Nobody insults the blood pack like that. And definitely not some stupid turians!" the krogan sneered, the vorcha behind him hissing their agreement. "I'm gonna pou-" Garrus cut him off by punching him directly in the throat. He could see where this was going, and he had no qualms about playing dirty. It the best way to deal with krogan strength and size.

"Oh great," Sidonis murmured stoically. "I've always wanted to die in a bar fight."

The blood pack mercenary stumbled back a step or two and coughed, fixing one baleful eye on Garrus. "Not bad, turian. You've got some guts, I'll give you that. Let's see how you like wearing them!" He turned to the vorcha standing around him. "What are you idiots waiting for? Get them!" But Garrus had been anticipating an order like that as well, and he tackled the lead vorcha to the ground, pummeling him mercilessly in the face. There was a yell to his left and he saw the other two wrestle Sidonis to the ground, the krogran roaring and picking up a table.

Then a blast rent the air and all six of the combatants paused.

When Garrus looked up from the vorcha he was on top of, he saw the salarian bartender leveling a shotgun at them, backed by half a dozen security guards, mostly turian and batarian. "This is Aria's club." One of them growled. "No fighting. No killing. Unless she's the one doing it." He added with an evil grin. "You gents can see yourselves out now, or you can leave in bodybags."

"I'm blood pack!" the krogan protested the vorcha with him hissed and mumbled.

""And if you'd like to continue being a patron here, you'll shut up." The bartender spat.

"Bah!" the krogan grumbled before turning to Garrus. "This isn't over turian. You watch yourself."

Garrus offered the krogan a sloppy salute and helped Sidonis up off the floor.

"You two get outta here." The bartender said flatly, pointing at Garrus and Sidonis. "Damn newcomers think you own the place."

"Guess that means I don't have to pay for that steak." Garrus muttered under his breath. Sidonis hooted, slapping Garrus on the back as they made their way out of the club.

"You didn't have to do that, you know." Sidonis said once they'd turned the corner. "I mean, not that I don't appreciate the help. You saved my ass." He shrugged. "But I mean, this is Omega. Gotta be careful who you piss off and who you trust." Sidonis continued, giving him a wary look.

"Is this not the face of a trustworthy turian?" Garrus quipped.

"Laugh if you want, but I'm being serious. Never know when someone's going to come collecting a debt." He said darkly, looking off into the distance. Garrus made a mental note of that as Sidonis turned back to face him. "But you're right. Most people wouldn't stick their necks out for a total stranger. So why did you? What's your story? You don't look like you're from around here." Lantar asked curiously.

"Am I that obvious?" Garrus replied blinking innocently. Sidonis chuckled.

"It's the way you carry yourself. The way you've been scanning the streets around us while we walk." Garrus's eyes rose in surprise. "Yeah, I noticed." Sidonis said with a snicker. "If that stick was wedged any farther up your ass you wouldn't be able to walk. I'm guessing you just got out of the military."

Garrus smiled ruefully.

"Something like that."

The other turian smirked and gave Garrus a lazy salute. "Wow. You're really slumming it then." Garrus shrugged.

"It felt like the right thing to do; besides, that krogan was Blood Pack. Criminals like that need to be taken down a peg."

"So what," Sidonis said questioningly. "You're just some kind of…wandering do-gooder, just walking up to people and solving their problems?"

"Well, when you say it like that it sounds stupid." Garrus replied with a lop-sided grin. "But that's the gist of it. On Omega, all I have to do is point and shoot to find a criminal. It makes things easier."

Sidonis snorted ruefully. "It's never that black and white."

Garrus cocked his head sideways at Sidonis. "Sounds like you have some experience in that area." Sidionis shrugged.

"Sometimes I swear this place is alive, digging its claws into your skin and whispering into your ear. Before you know it, you're doing things you never thought you'd do. Let's just say that Omega changes people and leave it at that." That faraway look entered his eyes again, and Garrus wondered mildly what he was thinking about. Sidonis only appeared to be in his early twenties. A bit young to be world-weary, but he talked like a war veteran.

"Well, what about you Sidonis? What's your story. You don't strike me as the mercenary type."

"Ah, well, I just got fired from my job at Omega First, so I was in the mood to celebrate." Sidonis said with a wave of his hand. Garrus ran a search on the company as soon as Sidonis mentioned it, watching the information scroll by on his visor. Omega First was a legitimate security contractor; or at least as legitimate as one could get on the station, actually providing security. They didn't deal drugs, smuggle weapons or people, but they tended to respect the gangs and stayed out of their territory. _Interesting._

"What was that all about anyway?" Garrus asked, jerking a finger behind them in the direction of Afterlife.

"Oh him?" Sidonis said with contempt. "Sore loser. Convinced himself I was cheating at cards." He said with a note of regret. "And now I'm broke on top of that. My winnings are back there on the floor of the club."

Garrus nodded with understanding, before rubbing his chin in thought. Had it really been three weeks since the last time he'd interacted with something beyond killing them or ordering food? And was he really considering this? What was wrong with him?

"Well, you know," Garrus blurted before he could convince himself not to. "Us wandering do-gooders could always use someone to watch our backs.

Sidonis stopped walking and stared at him curiously. "You offering me a job? That's a pretty unconventional way to go about it."

"My life's been nothing but unconventional since…" Garrus said with a throaty chuckle before stopping himself and clearing his throat. "It's been unconventional for a while now. I used to be in law enforcement, wanted to do more." It was vague, but Sidonis was right. It paid to be cautious, especially when he didn't know how everything on Omega worked yet.

"But now you're here and what, you want to fight crime on Omega? The lawless space station? The one run by gang lords? Seems like a fool's errand."

Garrus shook his head. "Nothing's ever easy. But nothing's impossible either. A friend taught me that. I –we could do something about that Sidonis. Make those bastards think twice before murdering anyone in the streets."

Sidonis chuckled and clapped a hand to Garrus's back. "Oh, so now there's a we? I haven't agreed to anything yet remember?" The pair started walking again. "That's a real noble idea you got there, but news flash? There's like eight million people living on this station. Not to mention all the people that pass through on business. You figure at least a fourth of them are actively doing something illegal this very second. We could trip over a criminal just crossing the street. But tangling the gangs that run this station? It'll end with our heads on sticks, and I don't know about you, but I'm pretty attached to mine."

"That's why it won't just be the two of us." Garrus countered. "That's why we'll put together a team." He said with earnestness, the plan taking shape in his head as he thought about the crew that Shepard had pulled together. By rights, a disgruntled turian cop, a krogan bounty hunter, an asari archeologist and a quarian kid on her pilgrimage shouldn't have worked so well with the crew of a human military ship. But by the spirits, Shepard had made it work. She'd found a way to cut right to the core of a person and show them how much their help was needed; had been able to show them how to do better. Be better. Do what Shepard would have done. That was his first mistake, thinking he could do this on his own, no, he needed a team.

"We make waves. Start small, pick a district and find out who needs hurting. Prove we can get things done, and people; good people—will start lining up to join us."

Sidonis blew out a sigh and stared at him warily. "Man, did you practice that speech in a mirror or something?" Still, he seemed to be turning the idea over in his head. "You really think we could make a difference doing something like that?"

"Wouldn't be my first time." Garrus nodded. The younger turian dropped his gaze to the ground and ruminated. What are the odds that we're the only two people fed up with the way of things on this station?

"I assume you've got a starting point?"

"Yes," Garrus said carefully. "A red sand supplier whose dealers have been selling to kids."

"Is it personal?"

"No, it's justice." Garrus said with conviction. To his surprise, and slight embarrassment, Sidonis laughed.

"Spirits, you sound like one of those crappy holo-vids from the sixties. The ones about the relay three-fourteen incident."

"The humans call it the first contact war." Garrus said, managing to sound mildly affronted. Sidonis ignored the comment and brooded on his offer instead.

"You're making sense. I don't know if it'll work, but you're making sense."

"Something tells me that you were tired of being a security guard anyway. Tired of the gangs walking all over the people on this station." Garrus prodded. "You've been on this station longer than I have. You've seen how dark it can get, you said it yourself. Where's the harm in trying to make it a better place? If not for strangers, then for the people you care about?" It was a gamble adding that last question, but he hadn't been a detective for nothing. The faraway look entered Sidonis's eyes again. It was the look of a man who'd lost someone. The look of a man who'd lost a part of himself over time. But learning to read people had been a large part of his training, and he could tell that Sidonis had a good heart.

The kid just needed some guidance.

"Besides, I already know you can handle yourself in a fight." There was silence between them for a moment and then the other turian raised a glass.

"Ah, what the hell. I'm in. You just got to promise me you're not going to get me killed." Sidonis said airily. "I was bored of cheating mercs out of their credits anyhow." A cheeky grin stole over his face. "Hey, I said the krogan had convinced himself I was cheating. I never said he wasn't right."

Garrus stared at him in amusement. It seemed that there was more than one way to stick it to Omega's underworld. There was a joy in his chest; he hadn't expected it to be so easy to convince someone to work with him. Maybe Shepard had rubbed off on him more than he'd thought.

"So, how are you planning to pay me, anyway? Idealism is not an accepted currency in most places."

"Well," Garrus paused for a moment, not having thought much farther ahead than putting bullets in the people that needed it. Then he thought about the way that Shepard had meticulously checked the pockets of every terrorist, mercenary and gang member that had tried to kill them, stripped geth units for salvage and hacked every safe they came across with Spectre authority in order to keep funding their missions.

"You keep what you kill." He replied sardonically after a moment. "The people we're going after won't need money when we're through with them, and it's not like there's any authority to turn it into."

Sidonis punched him lightly on the shoulder with a whoop. "It's a start. I don't expect to get rich doing this, but a man's got to eat." He rubbed his hands together. "Alright, let's say you've convinced me to do this because of the noble ideals and not the promise of credits. You're going to have to tell me more about this druglord…"


	4. Prologue Part 4

Two weeks.

That's how long it had taken them to land something big like this. Thralog's operation was small-time by omega standards, but it was still larger than anything Garrus had tackled in C-sec. He was almost reminded of the terrorists cells he'd tracked down with Shepard; every time they'd thought they's gotten something, they had found yet another base. It was the same concept, only this time with pushers and chem labs.

Garrus grimaced and eyed the proceedings in the warehouse below him through his scope. Sidonis and he were on a rooftop across the street and one story up from where the shipment was being dealt with. He'd been expecting around fifteen people working for Miri'kit to show up for the meeting, and he was seeing at least twice that. Mostly batarians, but with a few turians and humans mixed in. For the most part, however, they seemed to be going about their business, loading crates into an unmarked shuttle while the ones on guard duty patrolled the area. No sign of a meeting though, no leader talking to them all at once. Then a dirty green sky car pulled up. Garrus focused his scope on it. Two turians got out of the front seat and headed to the back, dragging a hooded, struggling figure out between them.

That was new.

Their prisoner was half carried, half dragged into the warehouse and dumped unceremoniously in the center of the room. Garrus watched through one of the windows. With the hood removed, their prisoner was revealed as a scruffy looking male human. But the human wasn't wearing gang colors. Rather, he was clad in an overcoat and a grungy looking suit of grey body armor, and even if Garrus hadn't been able to see the logo stamped on the chest through his scope, he'd have recognized it as Elanus Risk Control Services gear. He'd killed enough of them on Noveria. "What's a glorified mall cop got to do to piss off them off?" Garrus wondered aloud.

"Exist." Sidonis supplied from his perch a few feet away.

Garrus didn't reply, focusing on the scene unfolding below them. The turians held him up as a batarian came over and starting questioning him. Whatever the human said, the interrogator didn't seem to appreciate, as he punched the human in the stomach. "Would have been nice to have bugging equipment." Garrus mused.

The interrogation continued for a few minutes, but the batarian quickly tired of whatever the human was saying, and walked to the other end of the warehouse and out of sight, returning with an archaic blade and saying something to the human that caused him to start squirming in the grasp of his captors again.

Garrus blew out a sigh.

He hadn't wanted to alert the people in the warehouse to their presence until _after_ he'd taken out the perimeter guards, but he wasn't about to let an unarmed prisoner get carved up. "My good deed for the day." He murmured. The head of the batarian holding the blade exploded like a ripe melon. _Scratch one._ The prisoner and the two turians holding him recoiled in confusion as they were splashed with blood and bits of brain matter. The rest of the gang erupted into a frenzy of activity, pointing their guns at the windows and the skylights, jabbering to each other like a clutch of _sik-siks_. Garrus wished again that he'd had the equipment to bug the warehouse. 'Wait for a couple of them to leave the building, but don't let them spread out." He said evenly as he brought his attention to the guards on the roof across the street.

"If you say so."

The rifle barked in his hands. Five shots, three kills. He needed to do better than that or the rest on the ground were going to figure out where they were. Mirikits people rushed out of the building and garrus waited until a decent number of them had exited the doorway before lining up another shot. Then the dirty green skycar exploded and killed most of them.

There was an intake of breath in his comm.

"Was that you?"

Garrus responded with a savage grin. _Spirits I've missed this._

"No, no it wasn't, but I'm not about to look a varren in the mouth. "

Then his visor dinged, flashing a warning about the incoming rocket.

 _Crap!_

If he hadn't thrown himself to the ground in time, the rocket might have taken half of his face off. A second and a third rocket exploded against the side of the roof, pelting him with bits of rubble.

He crawled forward, trying to get to where Sidonis was, his new partner having already retreated to the doorway leading to the stairwell going down the building. Another two feet and he was home free. And then the whole thing cracked, shifting under his weight and pulling away from the building.

"Oh, hell." Garrus muttered as the concrete and steel gave way. Then he was falling, the ground rushing up to meet him. "Garrus!" Sidonis yelled sounding dim and far off.

 _Three stories isn't terribly far. At least I'm wearing armor._

Then darkness took him.

* * *

"Wake up turian."

Garrus was dimly aware of the metallic scent of blood filling his nostrils. And that something wet was coagulating on his visor, making the display hard to see. "Oh joy," He thought with a groan, as he pulled the pieces together. "I'm bleeding." A moment later, he realized that the cold flat surface his face was against was the ground. It some effort, but he hoisted himself up with arms, and leaned back into a sitting position, his head pounding worse than the time he'd forgotten to secure himself in the Mako that one time on Ontarom. His tongue moved around experimentally in his mouth testing to see if all his teeth were still there.

They were. That was a good sign. Having all your teeth was a good sign. He groaned, holding the side of his head and slowly became aware of all the people around him with their guns pointed at him. _Well that's ominous._ He checked for his rifle and his handgun. Neither were where they should have been. _Damn. And I had just gotten the sights aligned the way I like them. Who knows who's screwing with them now?_

Then he noticed that there were two people on the floor with him. Watching him. One was a human.

The other was a turian that Garrus felt he should recognize.

"You know, I let you convince me to become a vigilante. Let you." The turian said with a sigh, "What a terrible idea."

Garrus grunted and eased himself backwards until he was touching a wall. "Sidonis." His befuddled mind spat out after a few seconds. "What happened?" The other turian threw his hands up and shook his head.

"What happened? What happened?" he repeated in annoyance. "What happened was that Miri'kit had more men than you expected. What happened was that they had a damn rocket launcher and blew you off the fuckin roof! You know, before they found their way up the staircase and beat me senseless. Dunno why they didn't just kill us."

 _Why indeed._

"Not that I don't appreciate the rescue attempt, but I think ya screwed yourselves."

Garrus turned to look at the speaker; it was the human Thralog's gang had been about to execute. Between the dirty overcoat and the old ERCS armor he looked like complete shit. The unshaved brown stubble and the dark circles under dull blue eyes didn't help matters either. He struck Garrus as a civilian. But most civilians wouldn't have been as calm as the man was with being this close to death. That intrigued Garrus, but it also put him on guard.

"Shut it." One of the batarians growled. "And someone get Thralog on the comm, tell him we've bagged three idiots trying to muscle in on our turf. Gonna question them then get rid of them."

To Garrus's right, the human adopted a pained look. "Look," he began. "Like I was telling your boy with the sword, I was just trying ta find a missing person, I've got no beef with – "

"I said shut it!" the batarian repeated.

The warehouse shook.

The gang looked around in confusion.

A second later, a dull sound unmistakable for anything except an explosion rocked the warehouse again.

"Find out what the hell is going on. Am I going to have to shoot another sentry for not doing their job? Damn your eyes, I'm surrounded by incompe-"

There was another explosion, much closer, and Garrus heard the sound of a door being thrown open.

"Delek!" wailed a voice. "We're under attack!"

"Fuck!" The batarian, who Garrus assumed was Delek roared. "You three, cover the windows. You two cover the prisoners. The rest with me. Someone out there needs my boot in his ass." The gang scattered as soon as he finished speaking.

"Hm." Garrus said thoughtfully. "That's convenient."

"That's not convenient, that's my partner." The human said with a laugh.

Garrus turned to look at the human, shifting his plates in confusion. "You have a partner?"

"Yeah. Didn't I mention that? No? Aw jeez. My bad. I knew I forgot something." He shook his head. "Ya know, my anniversary is coming up, I gotta figure out a present for my wife, it's been on my mind, and then this case…" he waved dismissively. "Ah, it's just been a crazy week."

There was another, closer explosion and a wail of pain.

"What uh, what exactly is your partner doing out there?" Sidonis asked warily.

The human stroked his chin. "Well, I can't be sure exactly, but rest assured it's painful." He leaned towards them and lowered his tone. "Say, you don't think we can fight our way out of here now do ya? If one of you could untie my hands…"

Garrus's beleaguered mind snapped to attention. The human was right. Only two guards were anywhere near them, and both weren't paying much attention, focused on the screams coming from the outside. Garrus thanked whatever spirits were watching that they hadn't seen fit to tie him and Sidonis up, which also told him that he hadn't been knocked out for very long. Without warning he tackled the guard nearest to him to the ground and tried to wrestle his gun away. Sidonis followed suit and went for the other. Unfortunately, the guards by the window noticed that and yelled something.

Garrus never found out what that was, because a second later the three of them went flying towards him as the wall behind them blew out, belching wood and steel all over the interior.

 _Again, convenient._

He wrestled the gun away and blew a hole in the guard he was straddling, getting to his feet unsteadily. Of the three guards that had been by the window, only one of them was conscious and he was writhing on the ground, shards of glass and bits of wall riddling his body. Garrus put him out of his misery as Sidonis gained the upper hand with the one he was fighting and did the same.

"Thanks for the help, Garrus." he spat in annoyance.

Garrus wasn't listening. He brought his gun up to the hole in the wall as someone approached through the haze of dust and smoke.

"Who goes there?" he said sternly.

"Who goes there?" a reedy voice replied. "I've often wondered that myself. Who am I really? What am I? It's all very existential isn't it?" The voice laughed, and Garrus knew it belonged to a salarian. That was interesting. He hadn't noticed a salarian in the gang. "Butler?" the voice asked. "Are you alive in there? Do I need to kill these people or no? Should I go?"

"Cut the crap before they put a hole in ya, will ya? These are the guys that were on the roof. I'm hoping they're friendly." the human, (Butler, Garrus assumed) groaned as he got to his feet. "O'course, they didn't untie my hands, so there's that." he said dryly.

"Then they're smarter than they look." the salarian said with a chuckle as he stepped closer through the smoke. He was the average grayish green salarian, with deep brown saucers for eyes. He waved a three fingered hand at Garrus and Sidonis.

"Come on. We need to get out of here before Thralog shows up. You coming?" he darted out of the hole in the wall and despite his misgivings, Garrus followed suit, Sidonis close behind. The human brought up the rear, still cursing that they hadn't untied his hands.

Garrus prayed he wasn't making a huge mistake.


End file.
